Model Behaviour

I have been waiting to do this post until I managed to collate a few photographs together of me on the catwalk for Plus North.  I only have a few here which I have managed to grab from other people, but I love them all.  If I get more at a later stage I will add them on.

 

Courtesy of Becca Simmons

 Image Courtesy of Yours Clothing

 

 

It was one of the most amazing experiences of my life walking down the catwalk for Yours Clothing, Curvissa and Evans and is certainly something I will never forgot.

There is one thing that I have been waiting for to happen since Plus North ended which hasn’t happened yet.  I hope it never does.  The come down.

Plus North has boosted me so much, in so many ways that I feel like one person walked into Plus North and another walked out.

For one thing; getting changed.  I had four outfits to model on the day.  There was a side room to get changed in with all the other models, or the disabled toilet if you wanted more privacy.  I hadn’t got changed in front of people like that, even my best friends for more years than I can even count. 

Inspired by the other girls who were just happily getting changed all around me, I threw off my inhibitions and by the second outfit (changed into a millisecond as I was number 12 and 14 on the catwalk!) I didn’t give it a second thought.

The other thing that I have kept with me since Plus North is that I no longer worry about what strangers think of me.  I am me, this is the way that I look and if people don’t like it, they can go to hell.   The first thing my best friend asked me when I called up after the day event was “Please tell me that you were yourself?”  She knows only too well the front that I normally put up in public. 

I am so used to being judged, silently or verbally by strangers about the way that I look that when in public there is always a self preservation wall that I put up.  That wall was torn down within the first ten minutes of being at Plus North.  All thanks to the AMAZING people there.

The sparkle that I felt when modelling has stayed with me.  I even smiled at the cute guy walking down the street this morning.  Unheard of for the girl who always looks down at the floor.

I cannot wait for next year.

 

Fell in Love with a Girl

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am completely besotted with the Mary Jane style of shoes.  They hold a tiny, permanent place in my heart and I have lots of different varieties. 

I wanted to show you a new pair that I originally bought for Plus North for my stint of modelling (still feeling do a little "Eeeeek!") when I say that.  Unfortunately due to a prevailing swollen ankle, I couldn't even fasten them up and they had to stay in my suitcase.

Today though, my swollen ankle is gone (hopefully for good!) so I am working the edgy librarian look today complete with below the knee butterfly print dress, purple tights and my new Mary Janes which I bought from Clarks.

I love the mixture of patent leather and suede and they are the perfect height for work.

Here are my new lovelies!

Creative Corner 5

Today's theme I found to be an interesting one, here is what I did with it.

Write about a witch’s curse:

The woods next to the village of St Aubrens were dark and oppressive.  Somehow sadness and pain seem to radiate out from the branches and whether it was summer or winter, the leaves on the trees were always black.

The village itself was also a strange place.   There was a section in the village with rows of cottages that no one wanted to pass.  Misery seemed to hang in the air like an ever present cloud and the residents always looked like the weight of the world rested on their shoulders.

Whenever there was a celebration within the village, the festivities never reached those cottages.  Decorations were never hung, the brightly coloured lanterns were never lit, the people never seemed to smile.

Newcomers to the village never stayed long.  People were actively discouraged from buying in the area and the children who lived there moved away as soon as could.  This was not a happy town.  Because decades earlier, the village people had made a mistake, they had crossed a witch.

The villagers had always known about the witch who lived alone, or so they thought, in a tiny cottage in the woods.  Uneasy at the thought of a witch in their midst, the unspoken rule was that they left her alone and in turn, she would stay away from the village. 

After several years particularly bad harvests, the villagers started to mutter about the witch and about how she was bringing them bad luck.  One night, fuelled after a night at the local tavern, those mutterings turned to anger, and the anger turned to fury.  The men of the village tore through the woods with torches alight, intent of burning the witch out of her home and getting her well away from their village.

It was only when they had set fire to the witch’s cottage that the villagers heard screams of “My children! My children!” coming from behind them.  The witch raced through the trees towards the cottage which was now fully ablaze.  There was no way anyone, even the witch could have saved anyone inside.

The men had raced back to village, horrified at what had just occurred. 

The next day, the witch had appeared in the village square, stricken with grief at the loss of her children.  The smell of the fire was all around her and black smoke seemed to follow in her wake.   She proclaimed that every man who had entered the woods that night would suffer, that he would never know happiness again without pain.

The witch was never seen again.  Too afraid now to pursue her, the villagers never entered the woods again, and with good reason.  All the men who had entered the woods that night soon felt the consequences of her curse. 

Any feeling of happiness was followed by strong physical pain.  The sensation was described as having your heart pulled from your chest.  From a chuckle from a joke to a feeling of love or happiness caused hours of excruciating agony. 

The men soon realised that in order to survive the curse, they had to cut all happiness from their lives.  Their loved ones were sent away, they chose their food from the scraps left by others and they now eached lived alone, on the same street in the village.

No one in the village knew exactly how long the cursed men had actually lived.  The years and decades passed and yet they still lived on.  Some said that they would die when the witch did. When her pain had died, so to could theirs.  

No one ever entered the St Aubrens Woods again.